Their Speed Dating Whys and Why Nots
by kandisi
Summary: Wherein Peter, Sylar, and Hesam go speed dating, one of them has a special secret, two of them have made a bet, and all of them are giving their whys and why nots on speed dating in an advice column. Some P/S slash. Crackfic.


**Title:** Their Speed Dating Whys and Why Nots  
**Characters/Pairings:** Peter, Sylar, Hesam, Emma, Peter/Sylar, Hesam/It's a surprise  
**Rating:** T / PG-13  
**Summary:** Wherein Peter, Sylar, and Hesam go speed dating, one of them has a special secret, two of them have made a bet, and all of them are giving their whys and why nots on speed dating in an advice column. Some P/S slash.  
**Warnings:** Crackfic, some language, slash towards the end, very mild alcohol usage, and inappropriate conversations throughout  
**Timeset:** Post-season four.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes in any way shape or form, and do not make any money off writing this; it was just for fun and to pass free time.

**A/N:** I don't actually think speed dating could be anything like this. ;P

-This fic does not necessarily reflect my views/opinions about any character or the topics discussed between them and their dates.  
-Some of the topics the guys discuss with their speed dates are a little controversial or extremely weird, but I... really like to give characters hell in fic, and in a speed dating fic, that seemed like the best way...  
-Much thanks to the reviewer who corrected that crazy typo I made.  
-As I'm sure everyone knows, the guys' 'whys' and 'why nots' are not meant to be interpreted as real dating advice for this sort of thing, lol...

**Their Speed Dating Whys and Why Nots**

_Peter says __**Why**__: "Because if you have the night off and don't go, your friends could think you're hiding something, or even gay."_

_Hesam says __**Why**__: "Because if you go with friends, helping a friend get love is the perfect excuse to get laid yourself."_

_Sylar says __**Why**__: "Because if you're interested in a certain someone or already seeing a certain someone, it's a nice way to get them tied to a bed."_

"This... is _ridiculous_..."

"Then why are we doing it?"

"Because Hesam talked me into it, and then you made a bad situation worse by deciding to tag-along, which you already know."

Seated in the backseat of the cab, to Peter's right, Hesam bumped his paramedic's partner in the outer arm.

"Peter, I'm just trying to help out a special friend."

Peter smirked. "I see. And how exactly is this supposed to help me?"

"I'm trying to help you get laid, that's all," said Hesam, shrugging playfully. "Superheroes always have a problem with that, for some reason."

"...Do you think you could have said that any, I don't know, _louder_?" asked Peter. He clearly was not amused. "I knew I shouldn't have told you my secret."

Hesam seemed to disagree, saying, "I'm really glad you told me. After all, I know you're not a government spy now, or an alien, and I'd been worried about that."

Peter's head turned to the left, and another sigh escaped his lips. "Is this what you call a '_brave new world'_?"

Staring out the window, Sylar didn't even bother looking at Peter, as he said, "I don't see how Hesam plays much of a part in it, so your statement lacked any real relevance to mine."

Hesam blinked. "Peter... I don't know why but I feel like I should be offended by that."

Peter nodded his head a little. "You should, because he meant to offend you."

"Oh..." Hesam then observed while Sylar turned his head, leaned towards Peter, and whispered something into his ear.

Peter rolled his eyes, and commented, "That was rude, and you know it."

"Hey..." whispered Hesam. "What is he saying about me?"

Peter's head fell back against the seat, and he sighed again. "Hesam, you really can't pay any mind to anything Sylar says – at all. He's quite literally insane, and he has little to no respect for the feelings of others, especially if he doesn't feel the other person's respect has been earned from him."

"Hm." Hesam pondered. "Sounds kind of sociopathic, if you ask me."

Sylar leaned forwards, looking to his right, across Peter and at Hesam; his expression nonchalant. "I am a sociopath, or so I've been told."

Hesam sort of just... sat there.

"Oh get that look off of your face, Peter," said Sylar, his apathy subsiding, "We've been over this. I _have_ feelings, just like everyone else does. Just because I—"

"NO." Peter wasn't going to give Sylar the chance to delve into this. "I'm _not_ listening to _that_ speech again. Just because my friend is here does _not_ mean _I_ am going to listen to that because you think he will, so don't even bother trying."

"Fine with me," muttered Sylar, returning Peter's rudeness. "Then I don't have to listen to your idiotic speech about comic book character stereotypes anymore."

Peter ignored Sylar in favor of Hesam. "Like I said, pay no mind to him in the beginning. Unless you can earn his respect in some form or fashion, he's only going to mock anything and everything you have to say."

Hesam thought for a minute. He knew how to earn a sociopath's respect. "...Peter, has anyone ever told you that you have a narcissistic deity complex?"

Sylar eyed Hesam once again, finally appearing interested in him. "_I_ have. You've noticed it, too?"

"Of _course_," said Hesam, "I work with him enough to see him try to raise the dead every day."

"Tell me about it."

"Ugh," grumbled Peter. "You both know I don't have a God Complex. That's _Sylar_. Or my mother... but the point is that... wait... I am _not_ talking about psychology, either. Not again."

"You won't have to, sir, because we have arrived at your destination," said the cab driver, who had been eavesdropping on the entire conversation taking place behind him during the drive. Peter missed Mohinder, who sadly enough, was not the driver.

The cab driver then informed his three passengers of their thirty-five dollar and seventy-four cent fare.

Hesam was going to insist he pay, gathering the idea to come here had been his idea even though it was a special day for him, but then, he remembered what Peter had said about earning Sylar's respect...

"Peter, Sylar, one of _you_ guys can get it," said Hesam in an arrogant manner, "because I'm _not_ paying to be insulted by either of you."

"I'll get it."

After Sylar had insisted to pay, Peter rolled his eyes again. He _almost_ could not believe Sylar was falling for Hesam's little chicanery tactic, but at the same time, Peter knew Sylar would more than likely enjoy the idea of having Peter's colleague sucking up to him. With this in mind, Peter shook his head to a barely noticeable extent, before the passenger's side doors opened on both sides. It wasn't long before Peter, Sylar, and Hesam had all made their ways to the adjacent sidewalk.

Peter immediately eyed the building. The bar. Club. Whatever it was. "I think I'm back in hell."

Hesam shrugged. "It's not hell, it's NYC, but many people make that mistake, especially in the beginning."

"Well, I am suddenly _dying_ to know what's going on inside of your head." Sylar looked at Hesam with an expression bearing intuitive interest.

Then, however, Peter stepped in between them, and looked up at Sylar. "That may be, but Hesam is _not_ dying for you to find out."

Sylar huffed cutely. "Relax, Peter. I'm _not_ going to hurt your friend, or anyone else. I'm a hero now, remember?"

Peter touched a hand to his forehead, pushing his hair back. "Let's... let's just go inside, and get this over with."

Thus, the trio headed into _M1-5_...

"Ugh..." Peter could already feel a headache coming on. "Why are all the lights... red...?"

Hesam shrugged another time. "I like red."

Sylar grinned. Hesam was starting to grow on him. "So, let us go over the rules to the game again, Peter."

"Certainly, Jigsaw, I can't wait," said Peter, his voice filled to the brim with detectable sarcasm.

"So basically... no powers, right?" asked Sylar, who waited for a nod. "And whoever gets the most numbers wins."

"Not quite," Peter composedly replied, "No bullshitting, and by that I mean _no_ telling the women how much you love your job as a doctor almost as much as you love to see little children smile while aiding senior citizens or any similar BS like that, got it? You must tell the _truth_, and with _you_, that presents a problem."

Hesam appeared relatively perplexed. "Why is that? Because he's a pathological liar?" Though come again, Hesam may have been more confused because he was still a little hung up on Peter's strange reference to _Saw..._

Peter shook his head. "He sort of is pathological about lying at times, but no, Sylar just has a lot of skeletons in the closet. A _lot_ of skeletons..." Peter wasn't about to tell his friend about Sylar's murders. That wouldn't only make Sylar look insane, it would make Peter look insane, too.

As he contemplated, Peter could only sigh again. "Anyway, Sylar, we had better get out what we wrote down and hand it over to Hesam now."

Again, Hesam appeared somewhat flabbergasted. "Tell me how this works again? I mean, I understand you two placed a bet on who could get the most numbers from the ladies, but what's the deal with whatever you two 'wrote down' and whatnot?"

"It's our prize requests," said Sylar, removing a small, sealed envelope from his pocket and handing it over to Hesam, while Peter did the same. Sylar's note was contained within a red envelope of the sorts complete with a Hallmark sticker, while Peter's envelope was more run-of-the-mill and classic white.

"Prize _demands_," insisted Peter as he handed his friend the white envelope. "Hesam, basically... Sylar wrote down what he wins if I lose, and I wrote down what I win _when_ he loses."

Sylar smirked. "Smartass."

Another thought crossed Hesam's mind. "So... can I read what you two 'demanded' as your prizes? You know, just to make sure there's no cheating?"

"Absolutely _not_," stated the other paramedic. "You so much as _peek_ into what's written in those, and, well..." Peter made sure no one was looking, before his right-hand filled with blue sparks of azure electricity. "...You get the picture, right?"

Although he was certainly amazed, Hesam was still somewhat bothered. "Peter... you... sure have changed ever since the whole 'nightmare' ordeal you told me a little about..."

"He would never really shock you," said Sylar, smirk still in place, "Not in the literal sense, at least."

"Well, that's good to know..." Hesam figured it was good to know, he just wasn't sure he believed what he knew. "Let's go get our tags now," he said before he headed off to do just that; his friend and new acquaintance following.

The three approached the designated area of the lounge reserved for the _speed dating_ event... to pick up their stick-on tags. Sylar looked down at the table's surface, which bore the ones belonging to the men who had registered, and gathered his; peeling the back off before sticking the tag onto the front of his black coat. Meanwhile, Hesam stuck his tag onto the front of his white, button-down shirt.

Peter then gathered his own tag, and stuck it to the front of his black dress shirt. Then, he looked at Sylar's tag. "Well, at least you didn't use some moronic alias."

"Huh?" Hesam took a look at Sylar's tag for himself, then looking to Peter. "Gabriel? I don't get it. I thought you told me that _was_ his real name?"

"It is," said Sylar, "I just can't get anyone who knows me from my darker days to call me by that name."

Hesam was going to say something about how utterly weird he thought that was, until a gong rang, and everyone's attention was redirected to the floor.

"All right all you lucky singles, are we ready for some fun?" asked a young, busty blonde woman. She threw her arms up into the air while saying 'hurray!', holding the instrument she had used to strike the gong, and Sylar _instantly_ thought of Hiro Nakamura.

"Wow, this _is_ ridiculous." Sylar laughed. "Look at all these losers."

"Were you looking in a mirror when you said that?" asked Peter.

Sylar smiled. "No, but I was looking at _you_ when I said it..."

"...And you two are supposed to actually _like_ being around one another?" Hesam questioned of both his colleague, and his colleague's supposed 'friend'.

In unison, Peter replied with a 'no' and a shake of the head, while Sylar replied with a 'yes' and a nod of the head.

"Never mind..." muttered Hesam.

The gong sounded again, and Peter, Sylar, and Hesam all parted ways in order to take their temporary seats in front of their temporary dates...

This wouldn't be so bad...

...right?

_Peter says Why __**Not**__: "Because it might make you look sort of desperate."_

_Hesam says Why __**Not**__: "Because some of the people there may not be to your liking."_

_Sylar says Why __**Not**__: "Because there's always a possibility your certain someone won't __**stay**__ tied to the bed."_

0.0.0

_Peter says __**Why**__: "Because you can talk about your job with someone who pretends to be interested."_

"So... what do you do for a living?"

Peter smiled happily. "I save people."

"Are you like, a doctor?"

"No, I'm a paramedic."

"Oh..." said the young woman, Stephanie. "You've seen a lot of people die, then, haven't you?" She stared into Peter's eyes, one elbow on the table while she pushed a strand of short, black hair back behind one ear.

Peter's eyes shifted. "Well, yes, I have." Death wasn't his favorite topic to discuss on a first date.

"My mother died recently."

"I'm really sorry about that, Stephanie..." Peter only hoped the conversation wouldn't transpire into something about _his_ mother.

"What's your mother like?"

"Well..."

_Damn_...

_Peter says Why __**Not**__: "Because there's always the chance your date may want talk about things with you they should really be seeing a therapist for, or vice-versa."_

0.0.0

_Sylar says __**Why**__: "Because it's a nice opportunity to brag about yourself while staying vague about your life in the process, and you may even get to tie someone to a bed later."_

"I'm Carrie."

"Gabriel."

"What do you do for a living?"

"I fix things that need fixing."

"Like what?" asked Carrie, her expression curious.

"Anything, and anyone." Sylar knew his profession would be a popular topic, but if any of his dates wanted a more detailed analysis of his occupation, he knew he could always play the watchmaker card. He was keeping in mind the fact that he could not allow himself to lie openly to the dates, or he would otherwise forfeit the game with Peter.

"So..." said Carrie, "You think you could fix me?" With anticipation of her date's answer, she smiled.

Sylar leaned forwards, extending a hand, as he ran the tip of his index-finger lightly across the woman's forehead before pushing a few strands of her freshly bleached hair away from her eyes.

He whispered, "I'd love to, actually."

"You are _so_ hot..."

_Sylar says Why __**Not**__: "Because it could be boring at times, and it might be hard to stop thinking about tying your certain someone to a bed."_

0.0.0

_Hesam says __**Why**__: "Because you'll surely meet some sexy singles, of course!"_

"Helen, right?"

The twenty-nine year old woman nodded, brushing a hand back through her long, brown hair. She was dressed fashionably, but conservatively.

"I'm Hesam," he said, smiling.

Helen appeared bored, but considering her profession, it might have been because Hesam seemed perfectly normal at first glance, and she didn't _do_ normal.

"I know that, because your name's _on_ your tag."

"Are you a control freak?" asked Hesam, before stating, "That's kind of sexy."

"Wow." Helen shook her head, and laughed, "Do you want my diag_**nonsense**_?_" _As a fact, she _had_ actually laughed out the inquiry.

Hesam continued to smile, and said, "Sure."

Hesam shouldn't have said that.

_Hesam says Why __**Not**__: "Because you could have a licensed psychiatrist try to diagnose you with PPD just to piss you off."_

0.0.0

_Peter says __**Why**__: "Because it's an okay way to meet people from different age groups if you're into that."_

"So what do you like to do in your spare time, Britney?"

"Hmm, hmm... well, I... Oh! I love to walk my brother's dog!" She clapped her hands together, seeming rather hyped up. She _seemed_ awfully young, too, but then again, one had to be at least twenty-one to register for the dating event.

"Really?" Peter smiled, knowing exactly what to say. "I used to _love_ walking my brother's dog."

"How are they doing?"

Peter did the impulsive thing, and said, "They're both dead", while he was smiling at the same time.

"...Sorry..."

Crash and burn.

The conversation had seemed to end for a moment.

And Britney thought Peter was _creepy_.

Before Peter could change the subject, Britney stated, "I'm sixteen, by the way."

Peter recoiled in his chair, having no idea that the young woman was not really _that_ young at _all_.

But still...

_Damn... again._

_Peter says Why __**Not**__: "Because someone may lie to you about their age."_

0.0.0

_Sylar says __**Why**__: "Because you can say hilarious things and get away with it, and later, you may tie someone to a bed."_

"How about you, Gabriel? What do you like to do in your spare time?"

Sylar shrugged. "You know, Jade, the usual. Sit in one place for long periods of time, contemplating the eternal damnation of my soul within my likewise damned, eternal life."

Jade was fascinated, as Sylar's statement had really appealed to her gothic nature.

Of course, Sylar had _known_ it would.

"That was _so_ deep..." whispered Jade.

Sylar shrugged, again. "I _can_ go deeper than that."

"That was _really_ hot."

_Sylar says Why __**Not**__: "Because the hilarious things you say can distract you from your fantasies of soon tying someone to a bed."_

0.0.0

_Hesam says __**Why**__: "Because it is possible you could land a threesome, I guess."_

"So, you ever try speed dating before?"

"Once," replied Hesam, "but it didn't work out so well."

"How so?" Lindsey, the female choreographer asked.

Hesam then realized how much he didn't want to talk about the topic at bay, but he wasn't going to lie his way through this.

"The woman I called and later met sort of... turned out to be a... guy..." Between every ellipse, Hesam's voice had lost energy and trailed lower.

Lindsey was a woman, but she was bisexual. "Are you a homophobe...?" She was guessing Hesam had made that little story of his up for show, and if he had, that only implied one of two things.

Hesam shook his head. "No, of course not. I'm just _not_ gay, that's all." After saying this, he became worried. The first thing anyone thought when another person said the words 'I'm not gay' was that they were gay. He sighed, realizing he should have left the 'I'm not gay' part out of his sentence.

Meanwhile, Lindsey was wondering if Hesam was in the first stage about something.

"...Are you _sure _you're not?"

Hesam sighed. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"I meant 'yes' that I'm not."

"I knew that... why are you so defensive about it?"

Hesam knew the conversation was going to get weird. Well, weird_er._

_Hesam says Why__** Not**__: "Because even if you support gay rights, you might not be willing to dress up in drag for the next pride parade in order to please your date."_

0.0.0

_Peter says __**Why**__: "Because some of your dates will likely have very commendable professions."_

"That's why you have to _fight_ the power!"

"I see..." muttered Peter, though he was smiling nevertheless. "How so?"

"I'm an ADA. Putting bastards behind bars is my game." Sonya was Peter's age and already very accomplished in her field, which Peter found admirable, even if did not care for said field.

"Very respectable," said Peter, nodding his head. "My parents wanted me to be an attorney, since it was the family business, but I declined. It just wasn't for me."

Sonya frowned. "Why? Someone cut your balls off?"

"Um... no..." Peter tried not to stammer. "I just... didn't want to-to be one, that's all..." He'd failed at trying not to stammer.

Sonya smiled in an arrogant manner. "Yes, because someone _**obviously**_ cut your balls off."

"Psycho..."

Unfortunately, the whisper had been audible.

"..._Excuse_ me?"

_Triple damn..._

_Peter says Why __**Not**__: "Because, if you're a guy, there's always a chance you could lose your dignity in more ways than one."_

0.0.0

_Sylar says __**Why**__: "Because you're bound to share interests with someone, perhaps even the interest of binding another someone to a bed."_

"So what part of Australia did you say you were from, Rochelle?"

"Perth."

Sylar nodded. "I see. I don't have to be a human lie-detector to know you're not Australian... but, I actually find that rather interesting. I've faked accents a lot myself. You should have seen me in Texas."

"So you understand?" asked Rochelle, losing her Aussie accent as she looked into Sylar's darker eyes. "What it's like to just... want to be someone else for a little while?"

Sylar took a sip of his water, and nodded. He wasn't about to drink wine or anything else alcoholic in front of these women, since he had heard before that it was a bad idea for many reasons; they would probably even start to ask the men with alcoholic drinks if they had ever done anything stupid while under the influence.

Getting his thoughts back on topic, Sylar said, "Of course I do. I was someone else for so long I actually forgot _who_ I was – quite literally."

"So who are you _now_?"

"I guess anyone who is brave enough will just have to find that out, but alas, most people are _not_ that brave."

Rochelle placed her hands over one of Sylar's. "Well I am."

"Be careful, or you just might end up 'knackered'," said Sylar... while he faked an Australian accent.

"Sling it to me, cowboy," she purred with an added southern accent. "And to think, normally I would just ask a guy if he'd ever done anything crazy while he was drunk, but you're drinking water, so I can't tell anything about you from that. You're such a... mysterious, innocent gentleman, Gabriel."

Sylar had the urge to laugh, but he controlled it.

_Sylar says Why __**Not**__: "Because you may have a hard time controlling your urges, such as the urge to tie a certain someone to a bed later in the night."_

0.0.0

_Hesam says __**Why**__: "Because you can talk about celebrities you're aware of, but don't really care about."_

"What sort of television shows do you watch, Hesam?" Joan always liked this particular subject, since television was her way of figuring out what sort of personality her temporary dates had. One could tell a lot about what the sex might be like by their taste in the 'boobtube'.

And as long as Hesam did not insult reality television or a certain show about her favorite, pill-popping M.D., Hesam would be fine.

"I'll watch just about anything when I do, so long as it's not reality television," he said, laughing a little. "I'm also a paramedic, so I'm not much into the shows taking place in hospital settings because they're portrayed so horribly inaccurate."

Joan looked like she wanted to kill. "You have a problem with Idol?"

Yikes. Hesam knew his was already in trouble. "No! Absolutely not. I just can't see how Taylor Hicks won season five, that's all."

"...That's ALL? He's to DIE for!"

"I-I... uh, I like Paula Abdul?"

"Tell me you're her slave. 'Straight up, now tell me'..."

"...I..."

Wow.

_Hesam says Why __**Not**__: "Because you may actually have to talk about celebrities you're aware of but don't really care about."_

0.0.0

_Peter says __**Why**__: "You may learn something about yourself you didn't already know."_

"So what do you do, Katherine?"

"I'm a veterinarian."

Peter smiled with approval. "That's lovely."

"You own any pets?"

"I'd like to, but I just don't have the time."

Katherine took a sip of her white wine, and asked, "Why is that?"

"Oh, my job in general. It keeps me really busy."

Katherine arched a brow. "Are you a workaholic?" She thought Peter seemed like one, and a lot of the time, men who were workaholics in a profession like Peter's developed strange attitudes and delusions that they could save the world.

And the fact that Peter would answer the question of 'what do you do? with 'I save people' had been relatively odd.

"No, I'm not a workaholic," replied Peter. He was lying, but he didn't know it. "Not at all. Unless I _choose_ to take extra shifts, my supervisors call the shots regarding my work hours, not me."

"Do you ever let a woman call the shots?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, if you were dating a woman, and she told you to choose between her and your job, what would you do?"

Peter contemplated. "...Is the woman in need of being saved?"

"No," she garbled. Peter had a Hero-Complex, didn't he?

_Peter says Why__** Not**__: "You may learn something about yourself you didn't already know."_

0.0.0

_Sylar says __**Why**__: "You can color up your stories and have fun telling them, while you think about, well, you know."_

"So..." began Katie, "You ever been abducted by aliens?" She smiled, and her smile was both innocent and strangely convincing.

Sylar looked up. This was obvious. Most men would either laugh at or flee from the question, but all Katie wanted was a colorful story, and on the brighter side, Sylar could give her one _without_ lying.

"If you mean did I ever meet 'the forth kind', then in _my opinion_, yes, I _have_ been abducted."

Katie's blue eyes lit up, almost sparkling. "Tell me... what did **they** _do_ to you?"

Sylar thought about it, gathered his words, and made way to tell his tale.

"They imprisoned me in a place called Level 5, more than once... The first time they collected me for their 'experiments', they starved and tortured me, but I escaped," he said in a creatively honest manner, and his vocal tone matched one of someone who was telling typical campfire tales in a cemetery.

"_Then_ what happened...?"

"Then, they came for me _again_. I was heavily drugged and bound to a metal table, and the _extremely_ insane leader in charge told me she was my mother before she got me to work on her side with _them_ for awhile..." Sylar made sure his words trailed. He wanted to be dramatic about this. "She made me hunt _my own kind_ for her 'evil' company's personal gain, not to mention that of her own."

"Wow..." Katie fawned. _Gabriel was amazing_. "That... is _amazing_. You are _so_ sexy."

"Thanks. So, have you ever been abducted?"

"I can show you my bedroom if you want to find out."

_Sylar says Why __**Not**__: "You may not wanna sleep with all of the people who want to sleep with you, because you're still thinking about doing 'you know' with someone else."_

0.0.0

_Hesam says __**Why**__: "Because the event's all about the present, and not the past."_

"Do you like motorcycles?"

Emily didn't seem like the biker-type to Hesam, much less like someone who was in the automotive repairing business, so he was curious to learn her reasons for bringing the topic up.

"Not personally, since in my line of work, I've seen too many people die on those things," replied Hesam, as he still wanted to remain completely honest about himself.

"My _ex_ had a motorcycle..."

Oh, Hesam didn't know what to think now. The only thing he knew was that when the subject of one's ex presented itself under such circumstances, the other person would inevitably be forced to bring up their _own_ ex in some way. After this, they would have an emotional breakdown over their exes and jump into something sexual off the rebound.

Either way, Hesam did not want to talk about his ex. "Well, Emily, didn't you come here because you're trying to forget about your ex?" He hadn't realized he had worded that wrong until it was too late. He had meant to say 'trying to move on from' and _**not**_ 'trying to forget about', but he couldn't correct himself without appearing like a horn-dog, which made him worry.

Of course, Hesam _had_ given Emily the impression that he was fully interested in some sex off the rebound; he didn't like motorcycles, after all, which already made him so much different from Emily's ex.

"Tell me about your last ex. Do you miss her?"

Hesam recoiled a little. "Not... not really. Can we get away from this subject of exes, please?"

"You shouldn't be so _shallow_ that you cannot express your emotions _openly_ for the women you've loved," said Emily, voice full of mixed emotions. "Tell me _all_ about your views on women and the power of love."

Hesam ordered some whiskey.

_Hesam says Why __**Not**__: "Because you will likely meet at least one person who's on the rebound."_

0.0.0

_Peter says __**Why**__: "Because there's a first time for everything."_

"Are you a virgin?

Peter looked down at the table. He really hoped he didn't look like a virgin, and he especially hoped Kayla didn't think he was a 'pretty boy'; and the latter disturbed him more.

"Why... would you ask that?"

"I'm just curious. Well _are_ you?"

Peter exhaled. "No, I'm _not_."

"You're _sick_."

Peter was confused again, as he didn't understand how there was anything wrong with the fact that he wasn't a virgin. Unfortunately, he had missed the detail that was the cross hanging from the neck of the young woman in the pretty white dress.

"Um... why do you say that, Kayla?"

"Because I only believe in sex _after_ marriage, you pervert. What, you one of those creeps who gets off on deflowering young girls? I bet you masturbate, too, don't you?"

"I'm... um... what's your favorite season out of the year...?"

The season had changed, but to Peter's dismay, the subject didn't...

_Peter says Why __**Not**__: "Because there is a last time for everything, too."_

0.0.0

_Sylar says __**Why**__: "Because you can meet people who relate to you on different levels as well as your own, and the tying and the bedding that might be in your head can help to motivate you."_

"Now you listen to me, asshole..."

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Why do you say that, Bonnie?"

"I want you to know right up front that I am a recovering addict, and that if you have a problem with that, you need to keep your mouth shut." Bonnie was very pretty, but apparently the topic relating to her personal life hadn't gone so well on a previous speed date.

But Sylar knew how to talk about such topics.

"Oh," said Sylar, "I actually don't have a problem with that, because I'm a recovering addict, too."

"...Really?"

Sylar nodded, and in his opinion, he was being honest. Abilities were like drugs, and withdrawing from the hunger was never easy.

"Yes, I would definitely say so," he said, having decided to share a little history. "It has been months now, and while I haven't slipped, I sometimes become afraid that I might in the future, I'll admit. I just know I can't allow myself to revert back into the monster my addiction turned me into, unless I want my life as I know it to become a living hell for both myself, and everyone around me."

"I think I love you."

"Thanks."

_Sylar says Why __**Not**__: "Because it's very possible one of your dates could fall too hard for you... and because you may already be hard for someone else whom you might be having a hard time forgetting about tying down."_

0.0.0

_Hesam says __**Why**__: "Because it's a nice and convenient place for social drinking."_

"Yes, I've had my moments, too, Cherrie," replied Hesam. He took a small sip of his whiskey; it was the same brand he would have at Houlihan's on occasion: malt bourbon. Drinks made starting a conversation with women easier; not merely because of the effects it had on one's inhibitions, but because this way, a person could inquire about another person's drink and the experiences related to it.

Unfortunately for Hesam, however, the subject wasn't about how someone had once had a marvelous glass of red wine during their stay at a foreign hotel, which the paramedic would have preferred to chat about.

Instead, Cherrie had told a little tale about her craziest out of several drunken experiences, and now, she was going to ask Hesam what _his_ was...

"So what's the craziest thing you've ever done when _you_ were drunk?"

"Hmm..." Hesam contemplated. He knew the answer; he just didn't know if or if not he should divulge it. On the latter, he decided to share his _second_ craziest experience. "Well, I guess it was that one Independence Day where I set the American flag on fire." He had forgotten to add the word 'accidentally' to that sentence.

He laughed.

"..."

Hesam realized the former would have been better.

"Wait, I mean—shit, I was really, _really_ drunk, okay...?"

He would go on to explain that the incident in question had been an accident, which it had been as the incident had taken place during a dormitory party where he had knocked a candle over onto a rolled-up flag, but he still wished he hadn't disclosed his second craziest alcohol-related moment in favor of the first.

_Hesam says Why __**Not**__: "Because if you have something to drink and then say something that your date wasn't partial to, they may think you're drunk."_

0.0.0

_Peter says __**Why**__: "Because you may hear some slang terms you'll never again forget."_

"I mean... have you ever felt like you were actually, I don't know how to phrase it... like, in another person's body? Their mind, their soul?"

Caroline was a very nice woman, Peter knew. She enjoyed talking about the joys of love and life, and Peter had always enjoyed empathizing over these things.

Still, he had not taken her inquiry in the metaphorical sense; he had taken it in the _literal_ sense.

"Well..." Peter paused, but ultimately said, "Yes..."

"Really?" asked Caroline. She was trying to get more of an idea about Peter's spiritual essence than the ex she now wanted to hear him talk about. "Tell me about the experience?"

"It's... well, sort of... personal..."

"Well who am _I_ going to tell? C'mon, tell me about her."

"It was... sort of with a guy." He did not want to talk about Sylar; period. But, he couldn't back down from the question, because then, Sylar could lie-detect him and find out he had lied, and Peter was _still_ going to win their game _and_ his prize along _with_ it, damnit...

"Do you swing?" asked Caroline. It wouldn't bother her if Peter did, but his hesitance and expressions were a little disconcerting to her. Caroline wondered if he'd had an experimental relationship end so badly that it had damaged him.

Peter was, once again, confused. "What?"

Caroline chose to repeat herself. "You like to swing?"

"Well, it's been a while, but sure, I know I liked to swing when I was a lot younger." The paramedic didn't know how the new topic had arisen so suddenly, but he was glad it had; even it was a strange thing to discuss at random.

"Did you _do it_ with anyone special?"

"My brother," replied Peter, smiling in a happy but remorseful way. Pensively, he sighed, "Yes... he would just get behind me and push, again and again. I felt like I was flying _every_ time."

Caroline's mouth fell wide open. "_**Damn**_!"

"Huh? What was wrong with that?"

"Because _seriously... what the fuck __**was**__ that_? I could _tell_ you were some _**seriously**_ damaged property somehow, but your _own_ brother? _**Damn**_!"

Another tidal wave of confusion crashed onto Peter and breeched the blood-brain barrier where it flooded his thoughts; or current lack thereof.

It really was unfortunate that Caroline failed to realize Peter had been speaking of playground equipment, but more unfortunately, Peter had failed to realize what Caroline had meant.

_And_ unfortunately, Peter soon found out what she _had_ both meant _and_ thought...

_Peter says Why __**Not**__: "Because seriously... __**WTF**__**W**__**T**__?"_

0.0.0

_Sylar says __**Why**__: "Because you will likely meet people who are turned on by your character defects, and also because you may know a certain soon-to-be-bound someone else will be, too."_

"...and that is what I do." Sonya had once again bragged about her profession as an ADA for the state of New York, but if a man was going to handle her, he had to be able to handle her career.

Sylar took another sip of water, and eyed the dominant woman. That's just it – she was dominant. A woman like her enjoyed seeing strong men cowering in front of her, but first the men had to prove they _were_ strong, and intelligent, but most of all, willing to challenge her.

The former watchmaker looked at Sonya, and smirked. "You are a _bitch_."

"_What_ did you just say?"

Sylar sat back, propping an elbow atop the back of his chair. "You talk about your job like it's the _only_ world there is, when there's in fact _many_ worlds, so don't talk about yours like it's the _only_ 'world behind the world'. Trust me; a psychotic _criminal_ like me would know."

The ADA's attention had been seized. "Have you ever been on trial?"

"I never had my day in 'court', but if I did, I'd make _sure_ the verdict was ruled in _my_ favor, because I am just _that_ fucking powerful." Sylar grinned arrogantly. "Or I'd _**plead the fifth**_."

Sonya stood, grabbed Sylar by the lapels, pulled him close, and started making-out with him.

_Sylar says Why __**Not**__: "Because you may hit first base when it wasn't intended, and you may be getting agitated by now over the biding-bed issue."_

0.0.0

_Hesam says __**Why**__: "Because you can discuss many out of the ordinary ideas with ordinary people."_

"Did you hear me...?"

Hesam hadn't. He was watching Peter watch Sylar. Hesam's friend didn't seem very thrilled that Sylar had made it to first base with the ADA, but since Peter had made a bet with Sylar over scoring 'numbers', Hesam knew that was to be expected.

"Hey, Hesam! Did you hear me?"

"What? Oh—yes, I did. Sorry."

Anna smirked a little. "Then what did I say?"

"We were talking about abilities we'd like to have if we could have them, and you asked me what I thought of your idea for a superpower."

Anna nodded, as brown curls swayed above her shoulders. "Right. So... what did you think of my idea for a superpower? Neat, huh?"

Hesam had another go at his bourbon, and shrugged. "The ability to think in cartoons is pretty interesting, but there are ways people have achieved that before, I know."

"Like how?"

"If they say, smoke something like crack, for instance."

"...O... kay..."

Hesam realized he had worded everything _horribly_ wrong all over again. "...That came out really wrong. What I mean to say is that since I'm a paramedic, I know a lot about things _like_ crack and other drugs because of my job."

"So _you_ think **I **want to be on something _like_ _**crack**__...?"_

Hesam knew how to answer the question this time; a simple, one word answer would do.

Sometimes with women, less was more, especially when it came to hearing men's opinions.

_Hesam says Why __**Not**__: "Because if you're not careful of what you say, someone may take it out of context, get offended, and think you're high."_

0.0.0

_Peter says __**Why**__: "Because if you've ever felt like an alien, you may meet someone who will tell you otherwise."_

"Katie... what do you mean you were abducted by aliens?" Peter's trepidation was visible. He believed _Katie_ believed that she _had_ been abducted, after all.

"I meant exactly what I said," replied Katie, "They abducted me for the first time eleven years ago, when they planted a chip in my ribcage after taking me to their spacecraft. They come back for me every year, usually around Christmas," she said happily, "but I'll tell you mine after you tell me yours, so... Have _you_ ever been abducted?"

Peter seemed somewhat afraid. "Uh, no... I... yeah, don't really believe in aliens. Well... not those sorts of aliens."

Katie huffed, propping her elbow on the tabletop. "Well haven't you ever seen _The Faculty?"_

"No..."

"_Signs?"_

"No."

"_Men in Black?"_

"Once."

"Well...?"

Peter sighed. He was getting annoyed, and even after he won his bet with Sylar, he was still going to kill Hesam.

"Well what...? _I Am Legend _is way better, and so is _Hancock_."

_Hancock_ depicted a superhero in an interesting light, but Peter didn't know why _Legend_ appealed to him so... _Huh_, he thought, going over the movie's plotline in his head, _What about that movie __**is**__ it that I related to?_

Katie huffed again, as it had appeared Peter had spaced off into space without her.

"Peter?"

"Yes?"

"You're an _**ass**_."

_Peter says Why __**Not**__: "Because even if your conversation about movies and aliens turns more cordial, you still might end up having to talk about whatever your favorite song from a particular 97' pop album is."_

0.0.0

_Sylar says __**Why**__: "Because even without my lie-detection, you can have fun getting the truth out of people, just like you may have fun tying someone to the bed later that night."_

"...and I have had no luck here so far, so I doubt you are going to be much of an improvement."

Sylar didn't really seem to care. "That's fine."

"No, don't shrug it off. Have you found _Him?"_

The former killer saw the cross hanging from the young woman's neck, and noticed the way she was dressed – _so much white_, and in the winter... It all made a statement which Sylar had caught, but the sheer obviousness of it seemed to imply something more.

Or, perhaps, something _less_.

Sylar shrugged one of his shoulders. It was time for him to get holy again.

"I tried that, for a long, long time," he said, seemingly catching Kayla off guard to a certain extent.

"What happened?" She was definitely interested in Gabriel now based on both his apparent intuitive skills, and for his pleasantly serious demeanor.

Sylar decided he would vaguely share another piece of his history, despite it being a story he was most certainly not fond of.

"The aunt I had always known as my mother was very, very religious and she inadvertently gave me a bad impression of her beliefs, especially when she insisted I was 'possessed' the last time I ever saw her alive. Nonetheless, I think I've gotten over that incident for the most part, since no one stays pure as the driven snow forever."

Sylar looked at Kayla, and added, "Ask me something else."

"Well... are you a virgin?"

Having expected the question, Sylar sighed. "No, but you're not either, and you're _not_ damned because of that, so try to relax a little."

"...Okay... Hey, Gabriel?"

"Yes?"

"Were you named after the archangel?"

"Yes."

"Will you sleep with me?"

_Sylar says Why __**Not**__: "Because some people's primary interests may be touchy topics for you, and if they suck you in, you might momentarily forget about performing in bed later that night."_

0.0.0

_Hesam says __**Why**__: "Because out of the blue it might hit you that you are going to score very soon."_

Somehow, Hesam was feeling assured about something: Rest-assured, he was going to score that night and he knew it.

It had nothing to do with the whiskey, really.

But still, he was going to score.

"I love your name," he said, eerily dreamy. "Isn't there a singer by that name?"

"Yes," replied Rochelle, "There actually is."

"I bet living in Australia is really awesome." Hesam gathered it was, but he didn't care.

Rochelle nodded, but then sighed. Gabriel was the only guy who had known she was lying about her entire background, and hence, all of the men only wanted to hear about her fairy tell life as an Aussie, and she was honestly getting sick of repeating herself.

So she decided to change the subject to something a little more affable.

"Is that whiskey?" she asked.

"Yes, it is." Oh, here it came...

"So... what's the craziest thing you've ever done while drunk?"

Hesam was _not_ going to lie this time. He had made the mistake of answering that question with his second craziest experience relating to such matters and he was _not_ going to make that mistake again.

So, with strength and courage, Hesam knocked back the rest of his glass, set it down, and said, "The time I configured a wireless network."

What worried Hesam so, about his craziest drunken experience, was that it _was_ very crazy without actually _being_ very crazy... which... somehow made it _crazier_. Maybe even unbelievable.

Rochelle remained silent for a moment, appearing stunned. "Wow, that is actually... _really_, _REALLY_ hot."

Hesam was definitely going to score that night.

With a certain co-worker.

_Hesam says Why __**Not**__: "Because once it hits you out of the blue that you are somehow destined to hit it off with a certain co-worker, you might lose partial interest in the rest of your dates."_

0.0.0

_Peter says __**Why**__: "Because it's never too late to try something new."_

Peter's dates had become just a little too much for him, so while he rarely drank when there was no cause for celebration, he had chosen to order a glass of sparkling white wine nonetheless.

But damn, was this date of Peter's ever super-hot.

She appeared Park Avenue rich, too.

"So Peter..." stated the blond bombshell, brushing hand back through her stylish hair, "How are you on this perfectly wonderful evening, sweetie?"

"Very good, thank you," replied Peter as he smiled. "You?"

"Fabulous. Especially when I find myself looking at such a cute guy." She chuckled. "So, Peter, what is it you like to do you spare time?"

Peter thought about it. He wasn't going to make the mistake of saying 'saving people' again, or even 'helping people.'

So instead, Peter chose to answer with a response he thought the woman would _like_ to hear him say.

"I like to have sex."

"Excellent," replied A.J., folding her legs underneath the table in a manner that would make one of her stiletto heels caress the side of Peter's leg. "So about sex... let's talk about it."

Peter swallowed, and then, swallowed a sip from his wine glass.

Then... A.J. got some cards out from her purse. "Okay, plan A here is our basic plan, plan B is our bonus plan, and plan C is our deluxe plan with _all_ the benefits."

Like before, Peter had become confused in a mere matter of seconds. "Plans...? I'm... afraid I'm a bit lost, A.J."

A.J. chuckled. "No need to be shy, honey. Many guys are their first time."

Hold up.

"This _isn't_ my 'first time'," grumbled Peter.

"Well of course I knew that, silly," replied the blond, "I'm talking about your first time hiring an escort."

Peter blanked out. "Uh... okay... You know what? I put my cell on vibrate earlier, and it's vibrating, and I need to go take this, because I need an emergency call to get out of here. Wait—I mean, I have an emergency call that requires me to get out of here for a second."

_Peter says Why __**Not**__: "You may not want to try something new..."_

0.0.0

_Sylar says __**Why**__: "Because there's bound to be someone out there who wants you bound too apart from a certain someone."_

"I'm gonna cut right to the chase. How good in bed do you think you _are_, little boy?"

Sylar had been waiting for this one. There had bound to be at least _one_ woman there who would ask him for sex right off the bat.

The problem, however, was Sylar knew this woman in particular was definitely interested in using instruments on him that did not _include_ a bat. Her six-inch black, zip-up boots alone screamed 'dominatrix'. Sylar knew to win a number from this woman, the best thing he could do was to let out his masochistic side without being bitchy about it.

_No one would ever have to know..._

Sylar chuckled, and said, "Why do you need to ask that, ma'am?"

Angelica leaned in over the table, folding her arms atop its surface. The way Sylar had called her 'ma'am' was definitely intriguing...

"Do you think you could take me, little Gabriel?"

"I'm not sure, ma'am."

"Do you like to be punished?"

Sylar thought about it. "Yes. One time, I even had someone punish me with a nail gun, and although I was in so much pain that I begged to die, I loved every second of it," he said, adding, "And as a bonus I was being straddled."

"Very sexy..." purred Angelica. "Now, let me tell you about what I did last night..."

Sylar sat back and listened to Angelica's little story, and he honestly didn't know if or if not he should be amused, or scared.

"So..." continued Angelica, "How does that sound?

Sylar look another sip of his water, and said, "So ma'am, if I had any thoughts of trying that out, would I really have to do it in front of the cameras? I've never worked on a porn movie involving vampires before..."

"Don't worry about it, Gabriel," replied Angelica, "All you have to do is get on your fucking knees and do whatever I tell you to."

"Sounds easy enough, ma'am."

"Okay. Well, on your knees, bitch."

_Sylar says Why __**Not**__: "Because you may eventually become tired of humiliating yourself, but it is worth it, just to... 'you know', later."_

0.0.0

_Hesam says __**Why**__: "Because you may get to watch someone type up your type."_

Like before, Hesam had become distracted. He was watching Peter watch Sylar, again, only this time, Sylar was not making out with a date, he was... on his knees for his date...?

"Hesam, did you hear me?"

"Oh. Yes. That sounds great," replied Hesam, "I've always loved technological advances, and I see no problem with people being able to take the net with them everywhere they go. It's very convenient."

Kimberley smiled brightly at Hesam, but then, to his ultimate surprise, pulled out an actual laptop.

Hesam's brow furrowed. "You... brought your laptop with you for the dating event?"

"Well of course I did," replied Kimberley as she took a sip of her hot coffee, before she pushed her medium-short brown hair back behind her ears and looked down at the Mac's monitor. "I just need you to take a little test for me to find out if we're compatible."

Hesam wanted to recoil all over again, but he didn't. "Um... what kind of test?"

"The MBTI, oh, and the enneagram. I'm an ESFJ type 8, and my ideal match would be an ESFP type 7, so I just want to make sure you make the cut. Don't worry, for if you do, _then_ you can take the Global 5."

Kimberley turned the laptop towards Hesam, and then, pushed it in his general direction. Afterwards, she said, "Now take your time, Hesam, and don't lie, or I _will_ know."

Hesam's shoulders dropped, along with is level of pride.

_Hesam says Why__** Not**__: "Because some people may take your P vs J score way too seriously, not to mention the whole SX vs SO thing..."_

0.0.0

_Peter says __**Why**__: "Because you can get the 411 on shows you never followed."_

"Do you like television?" asked Joan.

Peter nodded. "Yes, once in... a while." Like before, Peter was being distracted. What the hell was Sylar doing a few tables over... on his _knees_...? Kissing a woman's... _boot_...?

"What kind of shows do you watch?"

"...Huh?" Peter asked, as he continued to watch Sylar. It now appeared Sylar had two dates fighting over him...

"Peter. Hey, did you hear me?"

Peter's head snapped back to his date. "What?"

Joan sighed. "What kind of shows do you like to watch?

"I suppose I am really partial to ones taking place in hospital settings, even 'Scrubs', I admit," he replied, chuckling to a degree. "Many people in professions like mine scold shows revolving around hospitals over their inaccuracy, but I couldn't care less so long as the show's a little funny." He smiled.

Peter seemed nice enough, but Joan had to wonder...

"No Tequila?"

"No thanks, I'll pass for now."

"You hatin' on my girl Tila?" Joan hissed at Peter. "Oh no you didn't!"

Peter was... confused. Again. "I'm sorry, but I really have _no_ idea what you're talking about..."

"You better do WHAT I'll fuck you UP! You better go down when you get wit me!"

"...If you want me to try your brand of tequila _that_ badly, I will, if you'll just... _stop_ shouting song lyrics... please?"

Joan grunted. "You're a fucking loser."

_Peter says Why__** Not**__: "Because some people may try to force-feed you their taste in movies or music; or more, even..."_

0.0.0

_Sylar says __**Why**__: "Because some of your dates may be willing to share their secrets, and the secrets they share may be interesting ones."_

"Have you ever been in therapy?"

Sylar said, "Only against my will. Why do you ask that?"

"I'm a psychiatrist," replied Helen, who strangely enough, had been Hesam's first date for the night.

"I see. Interesting..." replied Sylar, while he contemplated to himself. "So, do you think having a personality disorder from any particular cluster within A, B, or C always has to present itself with a secondary disorder?"

"Usually, they do correspond."

Sylar looked at Helen, appearing serious. "So, are you going to give me your diag_nonsense_?"

She nodded. "ASPD, Disempathetic, maybe Cheated-type."

"_Thank_ you," Sylar said with approval. "Most like to peg me as an aggressive form of alienated or even common."

Helen looked left, then right, and then back at Sylar. "You want to know a secret?"

"Sure, what's your 'secret'?"

Helen leaned over the table, and whispered something into Sylar's ear.

"_Wow_," Sylar complimented as the woman pulled away, "If you have _that_, you _must_ enjoy manipulating people, too."

"I'm going to give you my card... it just 'happens' to have my address on it, in case you might want to, I don't know... _come for me_ in the night when I least expect it."

_Sylar says Why __**Not**__: "Because if you hear a secret good enough, it may once again distract you from thoughts about your real goal of tying someone to a bed."_

0.0.0

_Hesam says __**Why**__: "Because you'll meet all sorts of interesting people with varied beliefs."_

"So... you're a wiccan?" Hesam asked, while Nancy presented forth a nod. "That's... that's nice, really."

"Did you know dragons still live in Asia?"

"...No, I... didn't..."

"Don't look at me like that."

Hesam swallowed. "I have nothing against witches, really."

"Do you celebrate Samhain?"

"...Wha?"

Then, Nancy removed some druids from her purse. "Let's a place a game, with my druids, Hesam? Don't worry, just stay away from The Thorn."

Hesam looked back over his shoulder, and made a single gesture with his hand. "Yeah, can I get another whiskey over here, please...?"

_Hesam says Why __**Not**__: "Because if you accidentally insult a date, you might end up having a spell cast upon you."_

0.0.0

_Peter says __**Why**__: "Because you'll likely be able to share a humorous story from your past."_

"I'm sure living in Australia is very wonderful."

Rochelle sighed. Another idiot, or so it seemed. "So... what's the craziest thing you've ever done while drunk?"

Peter thought about it. "Well... I hate to say this, but I tried something once... something _really_ bad..."

Rochelle perked up, hoping for the story to get interesting. "What was it...?"

"I tried throwing a pair of my sneakers over some power lines after drinking _two_ _whole_ _beers_, to spite my brother, but I just couldn't _get_ the shoes to stay _up_ there for some reason... Did I? Hmm... let me think about it..."

"Uh... yeah... you do that, Peter..."

_Peter says Why __**Not**__: "Because not everyone may find that humorous story from your past especially funny – they may find it sad, even..."_

0.0.0

_Sylar says __**Why**__: "Because really, what is war good for?"_

"They call me Harmony, man," said Harmony, and Sylar already knew this was going to be a piece of cake.

"They call me Sylar, girl."

"Your tag says 'Gabriel'."

"Your tag says 'Linda'."

"But I'm here for world peace, brother."

Sylar held up a set of fingers, forming the 'peace' sign. "Peace. Oh, and love and joy. For the world."

"Right ON, man, right ON," Harmony said, before adding, "War, what is it good for?"

Sylar formed a 'rock on' symbol with his hand. "Absolutely nothing."

"Word. You _rock_."

"Tell me about it, sister."

_Sylar says Why __**Not**__: "Because really, war is good for some things, like meeting a certain someone who later shall be tied to a bed."_

0.0.0

_Hesam says __**Why**__: "Because you can be open about your political beliefs, even if they are something straight out 5x04 in SPN."_

"I'm really serious about my beliefs."

Hesam swallowed once more. "...What-what kind of beliefs, Morgan...?"

"My political beliefs, silly. Now, let's talk about John McCain, but most of all, the possibility of Palin as president for 2012. I brought plenty of research for us to go over."

Hesam wanted to crawl under the table and curl into a tight little ball until the gong sounded again. He felt like he was in that freaky SPN episode where Dean had gone to the future.

_Hesam says Why__** Not**__: "Because if you're lucky, someone may take the fact that you're under the table as a compliment."_

0.0.0

_Peter says __**Why**__: "Because it's a good way to test your bailing methods, you know?"_

"The club you've talked about sounds interesting," Peter complimented. He had _finally_ been having a relatively _normal_ conversation with a woman. "And you say I'm a suitable candidate, in your opinion?"

Victoria nodded, pushing a strand of her naturally blond hair back behind one ear. "Yes, you definitely qualify based on your appearance and heritage. You were brought up a Catholic, right?"

Peter nodded.

"Okay then," said Victoria, "Now let me hear you say our motto?"

"What's your motto?"

"You mean you haven't figured it out by now...?"

Peter arched a brow. "I thought I had."

"Well, I'll say it then."

"Okay, sure!"

Victoria extended an arm, forming a very serious expression. "_White power!" _she yelled.

Peter paled. "..."

Silence.

Still looking extremely pale, Peter picked up his fresh glass of white wine, and knocked it all back.

Then, he used that lame, vibrating cell-phone excuse again.

_Peter says Why __**Not**__: "Because I... I... I don't even know... Yikes..."_

0.0.0

_Sylar says __**Why**__: "Because some of the people you meet may remind you of ones straight out of late night television; the kind you can watch in bed next to your bound certain someone."_

"Do you believe in... well, ghosts? You know... paranormal activity?"

"Not sure," replied Sylar, "I used to be one of those 'see it to believe it' people, but I stopped thinking like that a _long_ time ago... too much _incredibly_ weird stuff's happened to me."

"So have you ever felt like someone was, like... right next to you, but you couldn't see them?" inquired Roxanne. She was wearing all sorts of weird trinkets on her body in the form of silver jewelry, and the fact that the jewelry alone was genuine silver compelled with the nature of the trinkets told Sylar more than enough about her. Oh, and the vials of salt she had on the table.

"Definitely," replied Sylar as he answered Roxanne's question, "He was invisible at the time, but somehow, I _knew_ he was there..."

"Wow..." said Roxanne, _highly_ interested in what Sylar was saying. "So tell me, Gabriel... has this person's spirit been following you ever since?"

"Oh _yes_," Sylar assured. "But come to think... my actual body was possessed by a more _literal_ spirit once, and this one even managed to take control of my thoughts _and_ my body. I exercised him, though, thankfully. Well, to be honest, he exercised himself."

"God, you are just..." Roxanne beamed, unable to find the right words. "You're so... mysterious... _amazingly_ so. I know I'd like to possess your body, Gabriel..."

"After tonight, you are _seriously_ going to have to get in line..."

_Sylar says Why__** Not**__: "Because one reaches a point where they start to count the seconds that will lead them up to the real taker for the night."_

0.0.0

_Hesam says __**Why**__: "Because you don't have to be ashamed about watching infomercials from time to time."_

"What's your favorite slice-and-dice to watch?"

Hesam thought about it for a little while. "I'm not sure, Jamie."

"Well you _do_ like to watch that sort of thing, don't you, Hesam?"

"Sometimes," replied the paramedic, "You know, when I'm trying to learn something new from someone who _actually_ knows how to use a knife."

"Really? You learn from watching them, too?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Hesam inquired, as Jamie smiled adoringly at him. Then, Hesam continued, when he said, "Who says a guy can't like cooking shows?"

Jamie's smile turned into a frown. "Slice-and-dice means horror flicks as in slicing _people_, _not_ cooking shows as in slicing _vegetables_..."

"...I _swear_ I knew that."

_Hesam says Why __**Not**__: "Because you and your date may reach a crucial misunderstand point that brings you into the light but makes you look sort of stupid in the process."_

0.0.0

_Peter says __**Why**__: "Because you could get some good deals on furniture...?"_

"So what does your apartment look like?"

"Um..." murmured Peter, "It... looks like an apartment?"

Rachel nodded, her darker eyes meeting Peter's. "I see. That bad, huh?"

"Well, it's not... _bad_," replied Peter, though his vocal tone had been relatively on the defensive side.

Rachel nodded once more. "So... where did you buy most of your furniture?"

"What...?"

The very pretty African-American woman shook her head, taking a sip of her red wine. "I work at Ashley's, so I can get you a great deal, that's all. We've entered a new age; which includes a new age for furniture. Looking at you... I bet your apartment is only so dull because you don't want people to be able to decipher the 'inner you' by your furniture."

Peter reached to loosen his necktie, even though he wasn't wearing a tie. "I... well, I don't know, really..."

"Then how about it?" continued Rachel; "Wouldn't you love to come over to my corner of the store and pick out some furniture that screams 'Peter' on it?"

"Uh... I don't know, Rachel..."

Rachel nodded once again. "You see, I have a gift for interior decorating, so you strike me as someone with a wild side who tries to hide it with boring, dull furniture. What you could use is a magenta couch, a table made of pure ivory, some pink, beaded curtains, and a lavish, black rug with circular, and colorful, dots imprinted upon its surface. Also, a lime green vase and some new age art that depicts the human form in the nude to hang around your apartment."

These words had formed a very nightmarish image in Peter's head. "Uh... I think I'd... rather not buy any new furniture right now, thank you..."

"Don't be so quick to make decisions, Peter," said Rachel, before she removed a binder from her knapsack. She placed it upon the table, and opened it up, before spinning the portfolio around so Peter could take a look at its pictures.

"Now," began Rachel, "Just look through my entire collection, and tell me which of the pieces _speak_ to you, okay?"

Peter sighed with hopelessness.

_Peter says why __**Not**__: "Because you might not want to have your dates redecorate your apartment..."_

0.0.0

_Sylar says __**Why**__: "Because if you work up the courage, you may become blunt enough to say exactly what's on your mind."_

"Okay, so we just need to go over a few things first, Gabriel."

Sylar nodded, taking another sip of his ice-water. "I see... you brought a laptop, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," Kimberley responded, "how else am I going to get an applicable reading of your personality?"

Sylar rolled his eyes. "There's no need for that. INTx, 6w5, RLOEI."

Kimberley's jaw dropped. "Wow..."

"I know, I didn't make the cut."

"Hell, you KNEW the cut, though! And you're super rational and counterphobic and isolated! That is soooo interesting! You wanna come over to my place tonight, doll?" She winked.

Sylar huffed. He was becoming _so_ bored...

_Sylar says why __**Not**__: "Because when you do know everything, there's really not much to learn anymore, unless it's from your soon-to-be-bound someone."_

0.0.0

_Hesam says __**Why**__: "Because you might feel like you're back in high school, relieving your lost youth."_

"Coke or Pepsi?"

"What...?"

"Just answer the questions!" yapped Beverly. "Coke, or Pepsi?"

Hesam side-glanced. "Uh, Coke, I guess..."

"Captain Crunch or Coca Puffs?"

"...Captain Crunch?"

"Resses or Rolos?"

"I guess Rolos..."

Beverly checked a few points off her list. "What's your favorite color?"

"Umm... blue?"

"WRONG!" Beverly exclaimed. "Seriously, what guy actually says their favorite colour is BLUE anymore these days? Jeez."

Hesam sighed. "Fine. Green."

"Hey," Beverly then said, appearing ready to change the subject, "Is that whiskey you're drinking?"

Hesam averted his eyes to a random direction. "It's... water."

"Yeah okay... sooo, what's the craziest thing you've ever done while drunk?"

Hesam rolled his eyes. "The time I grabbed a Pepsi Max from the cooler thinking it was a regular Pepsi."

Sure enough, Beverly recognized Hesam, but Hesam was going to pretend he didn't recognize her.

Still, she had found his story about the Pepsi Max hot.

_Hesam says Why__** Not**__: "Because who actually wants to relieve their freakiest high school experiences with some of the people they dated back then?"_

0.0.0

_Peter says __**Why**__: "Because if you work up the courage, you may become blunt enough to say __**exactly**__ what's on your mind."_

"Well, guess you're my last date for the night," said Julia, as she looked at Peter.

"Guess so..." murmured Peter, just wanting to get the _hell_ out of there.

"So, your name's... Peter?"

"Yes."

"After... Peter Pan?"

Peter wanted to groan. "No, after Peter Tobin," he said sarcastically.

"Like the serial killer...? Why would your parents name you after someone like that?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Because my parents are insane. Anyway, you were actually a lot closer the first time, okay?"

"...What's your deal?"

"I've _just_ realized I'd get lucky more often if I actually _were_ a serial killer, that's all."

Julia got up and left, fetching a security guard.

Peter finished the rest of his wine.

_Peter says why __**Not**__: "Because after you speak your mind, someone may mistake you for an axe-murderer or something."_

0.0.0

_Sylar says __**Why**__: "Because you can speak your mind so you can finally get down to business that includes better things like tying people to beds."_

"Are you the last one for the night?" Sylar asked, sounding very, _very, __**very**_ bored.

"Uh-huh," replied a woman of twenty-eight with auburn hair and hazel eyes.

"Hate me," Sylar grumbled.

"What?"

"I said – _hate me_," Sylar demanded, "I _want_ you to hate me, okay?" he said, before adding, "Slut," just to piss the woman off. Katrina, or whatever.

"Sexy..." Katrina said in a breathy voice.

Sylar slapped the table with his hand, out of anger. "Blow me, _bitch_."

"Here? Now? You want me to...?"

Sylar stood up. "Excuse me; I'm going to go and slit my wrist, _**again**_, before painting the walls over in my blood, _**again**_."

"_Gabriel.._.! Wait for me!"

_Sylar says why __**Not**__: "Because even if stalking can be fun, getting stalked isn't."_

0.0.0

_Hesam says __**Why**__: "Because you get to repeat yourself to different people."_

Hesam frowned. "...Why the _hell_ does everyone keep asking me what 'the craziest thing I ever did while I was drunk' is?"

_Hesam says why __**Not**__: "Because seriously, you may get tired of repeating yourself."_

0.0.0

"Thank _God_ that's over with..." Peter mumbled, appearing as if he were about ready to take his own life, or that of someone else's – the someone else's life being either that of Hesam, or Sylar. Maybe the both of them.

"_Seriously_..." said Hesam. He was in full agreement with Peter. "Some of those girls were pretty nuts, if you ask me..."

"_Definitely_," Peter replied, "Like the white supremacist, the ADA, the witch, the woman abducted by the aliens, the ghosts hunter, the escort, the psychiatrist, the tweeter, the slang-talker, the personality test girl, and... _wow_... I don't even know..."

Sylar shrugged, and said, "They all seemed pretty normal to me." His voice had sounded quite serious.

Peter smirked. "Crazy people would seem normal... to _another_ crazy person."

Sylar returned Peter's smirk. "Well, we'll just see who managed to acquire the most phone numbers, in that case... because honestly, Peter, I have a feeling you struck out before taking more than two steps towards first base _more_ than once."

"Yeah? Well I bet you didn't do too much better, minus the _really_ crazy ones, to whom to you probably lied your ass off to," complained Peter, "and I am _going_ to find out if you forfeited the rules to the 'game' right here and now."

Peter grabbed Sylar's arm.

"Cool," Hesam complimented, partially in awe. "You taking an ability from him, Peter?"

Peter nodded. "Yes. Now, Sylar... did you lie to _any_ of these women tonight in order to seduce them?"

Sylar looked back at Peter, with continued seriousness. "No."

Peter appeared... perplexed. "Wait a minute... you... _didn't_ lie...?"

"No," repeated Sylar. "Why would I?"

The same blond woman who had been ringing the gong for the duration of the evening approached Peter, Sylar, and Hesam, ready to hand them their lucky cards.

"Let's see..." said the gong ringer, "Hesam, these women would gladly welcome a call from you."

Hesam accepted the numbers, and said, "Hey, seven out of thirty isn't really that bad out of _this_ bunch."

Then, the busty blond woman looked at Peter, and said, "Peter, these women would gladly welcome a call from you."

Peter accepted the numbers, and counted them with his back turned; deciding he wanted the number of numbers to remain a mystery until Sylar's numbers were up.

The pretty young blond then looked up at Sylar, and said, "Gabriel, these women would gladly welcome a call from you... though I must say, I don't know _where_ you will find the time, baby."

Sylar grinned, faking it to a degree; accepting the phone numbers which he did not even bother counting.

"Wait..." muttered Peter, partially in disbelief. "_How_ many did he get, exactly...?" he asked, directing his inquiry to the busty blond gong ringer.

Said busty blond looked to Peter once again, and stated, "I don't know how he did it, but he managed to get twenty-nine out of thirty."

Sylar groaned, a sigh emitting from between his lips. "Tell me... it _was_ the woman who would speak of nothing else but interior decorating who didn't want a call from me, wasn't it? I told her I didn't _need_ any new-age furniture, but apparently she couldn't handle a little criticism. God."

"You _must_ be a god, from what I can tell," insisted the pretty young blond.

Before Sylar could say a damn word in relation to the woman's statement, Peter frowned and promptly stated, "We are out of here, _now_."

Then, several of the lady speed dates all walked by, caressing Sylar as they walked by while blowing him kisses and saying things like "Call me, sexy".

Peter frowned majorly. "Like I said, we are _out_ of here, and _now_."

Hesam followed Peter's lead, as did Sylar, until they had reached the glass doors. That was when Hesam placed a hand on Peter's shoulder from behind, and stopped him.

"Wait..." Hesam protested after having stopped his friend. "So... that means Sylar won the game, right?"

"Leave me alone."

"That means 'yes'," chuckled Sylar.

Hesam turned, and looked up at Sylar. "So... what do I do with your envelope-bet things, then?"

"That's easy," Sylar replied, smirk in place. "You give me Peter's, and you give Peter mine."

Hesam, strangely enough, smiled rather sardonically for himself. "Sure. I can do that..." he said, removing the folded envelopes from his pants pockets and handing them to Peter and Sylar.

Sylar opened Peter's, read it, and laughed out loud.

Peter opened Sylar's, read it, and cursed out loud.

Hesam then shrugged once again, just as he had many times prior during the night. "Are we ready to leave, I take it?"

"Oh yes." Sylar gleamed.

"I don't even..." Peter whispered, saying nothing more.

Hesam then commented, "Know? I figured that much..."

0.0.0

_Peter says __**Why**__: "Because it's a nice way to get yourself humiliated; __**that's**__ why..."_

_Hesam says __**Why**__: "Because when you score, you score, and sometimes not scoring with a random date can lead to scoring with who you __**really**__ care about in the end..."_

_Sylar says __**Why**__: "What Hesam said. Also, are my 'tying to the bed comments' getting old yet?"_

Just like before, Peter, Sylar, and Hesam were all seated in the back of a yellow cab.

"So..." said Hesam, who was making way to break the monotonous silence, "could you give me at least a little hint as to what Sylar won from you, Peter?"

Without even turning to face Hesam, Peter said, "Fifty dollars."

Then, Sylar looked out the window, trying to hide his laughter, before Peter elbowed Sylar; hard.

Hesam smirked. "C'mon, Peter, I wasn't born yesterday. I know he won something from you bigger than that."

"Damn right he did..." Sylar mused, before Peter shot his ex-rival quite the death glare. After shooting Sylar said glare, Peter grabbed onto Sylar's sleeve, jerked him close, and then whispered something into his nearest ear that was more than likely a stern warning.

Sylar sighed, and then, leaned forwards so he could make eye-contact with Hesam through the darkness. "I actually won five-hundred dollars from him, and on the worse side, he must go on an actual date with either the white supremacist, the phony psychic, or the shopaholic. That was actually the main part of the deal – out of the dates he liked the least who gave him their number, I got to choose which one he _has_ to take out for an _actual_ date."

"Ooh," replied Hesam, as he rationalized. "That actually makes pretty good sense, I guess. Now that you've told me that much, what is it Peter would have won from you?"

With Peter still glaring at him, Sylar continued to look at Hesam, and replied, "Five-hundred dollars, and a date with the hippie. So, same deal, more or less."

Hesam nodded, and continued to ponder to himself. "Well, I get that, I really do, but what I don't get is what made all that stuff so secretive that I wasn't allowed to know about any of it beforehand?"

At this point, Sylar could do nothing more apart from pulling another eye-roll. "Hesam?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you an idiot?" asked Sylar.

"Well, no..."

Sylar smirked. "Then I really don't think you should be asking questions you already _know_ the answers to."

"...Guess you're right." Hesam said nothing more after this. Not about the topic he'd been riding, at least. After the silence had become rather persistent once again, on the other hand, Hesam did opt to break that silence once again. "Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you guys. I'm gonna score tonight."

Peter's attention was seized. Hesam's statement was the sort of statement that would gather any guy's attention.

"What?" inquired Peter, "You mean with one of those crazy speed dates?"

"Nah," remarked Hesam, "I mean with a certain very good friend of mine who is also a very good co-worker friend of mine."

Peter scooted closer to Sylar, crushing the man in the process. "Um, Hesam? How much _have_ you had to drink exactly...?"

Hesam chuckled. "Relax, Peter. I _didn't_ mean you. I don't know, out of the blue, it just hit me. It hit me that the time to score had come."

"He believes what he's saying, but I believe he's drunk," Sylar whispered into Peter's ear, before Peter nodded.

However, Hesam was not drunk at all. He had just wanted Peter and Sylar to think that he was, since this way, he could tell the truth and let it pass for a lie or at least an unsure version of the truth.

"So yeah," Hesam said, continuing, "I'll let you two take care of your 'prize demands' or whatever, while I go to score. When three guys go speed dating, at least _one_ of them has to score, and it might as well be yours truly."

Peter and Sylar both frowned at this, but knew they couldn't allow themselves to say what they were mutually thinking.

Then, however, realization once again hit Peter like a very unpleasant slap across the face.

"Uh, wait a minute, Hesam..." began Peter. Confusion was no longer an issue; he just needed an excuse to have an excuse to procrastinate. "I was... I was, um, thinking that I might finally be up to checking out Houlihan's with you... tonight?"

And before Sylar could say anything about this, Peter turned his head to look at Sylar, and said, "Hey, it was your mistake in not specifying a timeline for the contents of your 'prize'."

Hesam chuckled. "Nah, I know it's Saturday, but I have stuff to take care of before it gets too late. That said, Peter, you can get the cab fare this time since Sylar got it last time."

"Hesam..." muttered Peter, "This was your idea, and I think you've sucked up to Sylar enough..."

Hesam shrugged a single shoulder. "Yeah, I know, but you sort of let something slip your mind, Peter."

Peter's brow furrowed. "And what might that be?"

Hesam smiled while nodding. "You somehow managed to forget that it's my birthday."

Peter formed another blank expression; mentally slapping himself before saying, "I-I swear I knew that..." Since Peter still had Sylar's lie-detection, he knew Hesam unfortunately hadn't been lying. "I'm _really_ sorry, Hesam... all this speed dating nonsense _seriously_ warped my thoughts for awhile..."

Hesam chuckled again. "It's no problem, partner. I definitely had an experience I will _never_ forget, and as a fact, I know the night will _only_ get better."

Sylar began to process everything Hesam had said over the past few minutes, until he arrived at a rather _insane_ conclusion of the sorts...

However, Sylar chose to say nothing.

"Well, this is my stop, guys," Hesam said, signaling the driver.

Peter sighed again, and removed some money from his wallet. "To make up for having forgot about your birthday, I swear I'll go check out that stupid bar with you next time you ask me to... I'll go anywhere with you that _doesn't_ involve speed dating again..."

Hesam winked. "I'll hold you to it, Peter, and Sylar, it was very nice meeting you and I hope to see you again some time. Well, bye guys, and good luck!"

"See ya, Hesam," replied Peter, while Sylar waved.

After Hesam had exited the cab, Sylar looked at Peter.

"Hey, Peter?"

"Yeah?"

Sylar thought about it. "Never mind."

"No, what is it?"

"It's nothing. Now, about my prize..."

Peter grabbed the front of Sylar's coat, and shot him another death glare. Then, harshly, he whispered, "I just replicated your flight, and if you even bring up what you were about to say inside of this cab, I will fly to the other side of the globe and stay there for at _least_ a month in a location where you will not be able to find me."

Sylar shut up.

0.0.0

_Knock._

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

A door cracked open.

"Hesam?"

"Hey..." replied Hesam, "I know it's a little late, but do you mind if I come in for a bit?"

"Well, I guess you can... I am sort of curious about how the speed dating event went with you, Peter, and Sylar."

The chain-lock was slid open, and the door in its entirety opened shortly afterwards.

Hesam stepped inside of the apartment, and said, "Emma, you never fail to take my breath away..."

Emma blushed, allowing herself to emit the slightest chuckle. "Oh Hesam, cut that out. We agreed we weren't going to let things between us get serious until Peter had time to process everything."

Hesam sighed, walking his way to Emma's couch, where he flopped down. "That's sort of the problem, Em. Peter's... uh, he's into someone, all right, I'm just not sure it's you anymore..."

Emma didn't break eye-contact with Hesam. "It _is_ Sylar, isn't it?"

"Yep. 'Fraid so."

Emma took a few steps in Hesam's general direction, and then, allowed herself to take a seat on the couch at Hesam's left-hand side. Afterwards, she said, "If you knew Peter was already in a relationship with Sylar, then why did you take him, and Sylar, speed dating in the first place?"

Hesam chortled. "Because it was funny. Also, the two of them had _no_ idea the speed dating event wasn't a _typical_ speed dating event – it was one of those with a _theme_, the theme of this one having been '_voice your opinion to find your other voice'_, which really meant '_voice your opinion to see who doesn't run off_'." Hesam took a moment to laugh out loud. "Honestly, I'm surprised at least one of them didn't hear that the guys were talking about some even crazier stuff than some of the ladies were," he stated, shaking his head, "I heard a guy next to me telling one of the girls about how he was taking precautions for the next zombie apocalypse."

Emma sighed. "Hesam... that really was uncalled for, but I have to give you props for one thing – which is that you managed to get both Peter, and Sylar, to go somewhere with you, and the fact that you got the two of them to go speed dating just _might_ be a sign of the apocalypse."

"Well I knew they would go," said Hesam following another laugh, "After all, what guy is going to let his guy go on a bunch of speed dates without making sure he doesn't actually hook-up with any of them? The _second_ Peter told me Sylar was coming, I _knew_ they were an item. Not to mention after they handed me those nifty little 'prize demands' of theirs over who 'scored' the most 'numbers'..."

Emma smiled, and chuckled. "You didn't..."

Hesam grinned, stood, and walked over to Emma's breakfast bar, where he picked up one of several unopened letters.

While holding the letter, Hesam stated, "Guess who just became a licensed doctor?"

"Hesam!"

"Hey, it's good news," replied Hesam, "and it's not like the ability to read the contents of anything written down on paper just by touching it is exactly a super-ability to have. Not like some of the ones I've seen Peter and Sylar use in action. But you, Emma... yours is the best of all."

Emma's smile returned. "Do you think Peter will ever figure it out?"

"That's part of _our_ bet, remember?"

"Once he bumps into you _unintentionally_, he _will_ figure out you have an ability, Hesam."

Hesam nodded. "Probably, but until then, what do you say you and me head out for a romantic, candlelit dinner at the restaurant of your choice?"

Emma sighed somewhat sarcastically. "But it's _your_ birthday."

"Exactly, and I can't think of anything I'd rather do on my birthday than make you happy."

Emma rose from her seat, steadily approaching Hesam and stopping right in front of him, before placing her arms around his neck.

"Any place where I can see the music," whispered Emma.

"You've got it, Em."

And with that, they kissed.

Hesam, meanwhile, pondered to himself about how this was the most amazingly, adventurously awesome birthday he had ever had.

0.0.0

"This is _so_ ridiculous..."

"You said that already."

"I know, but this is worse."

Lying on his back, Peter had just pronounced this declaration; his hands tied to the bed. To make matters worse, he was wearing a blindfold. To make matters worse than _that_, even, he had just replicated Sylar's regenerative ability. These were all conditions specified in Sylar's prize note. Prize 'demands', to be more specific...

Peter felt as Sylar crawled up along his bare body, though he wasn't exactly intimidated. As he had said, Peter found this ordeal in its entirety more ridiculous than anything else, and it wasn't as if he and Sylar hadn't slept together more times than they had lost count of already.

The younger man was waiting to be ravished, before suddenly, the silk blindfold was abruptly ripped from his face in a single, brisk motion.

Then, Peter looked up into Sylar's serious eyes, and said, "Why did you do that?"

"I decided I'd rather see your eyes."

Peter smiled, to a somewhat... dark degree... "In that case, wouldn't you rather I be able to touch you all over, too?"

Sylar thought about it. "Well... yes, I suppose, but... this is about _humiliating_ you, remember? Like in the old days."

"Sylar... _Gabriel_... The old days are dead, and you have been humiliated _enough_, and so have I, so let's just say 'fuck the game' so we can make _love _in the traditional, _passionate_ sense... _If_ you love me, you'll listen..."

Damn. Peter had sounded so sexy, and the fact that he looked doubly as sexy was more than enough to force Sylar into compliance.

Sylar sighed, as he began to untie Peter from the bed frame. Simultaneously, he wondered if that little trick of Peter's would _ever_ cease to work on him.

"Anything," sighed Sylar, before he placed a hand on Peter's chest. "I'll do _anything_ for you, and you do know that... Just... one thing, Peter..."

"What's that?" whispered Peter, his eyes full of lust.

"You _did_ know your friend Hesam has an ability and that the certain co-worker he intends to 'score' with tonight is indeed your friend Emma, right?"

"..._Huh_?" The lustful look in Peter's eyes had faded away.

"Well it _was_ obvious, was it not?"

"You.. knew.. about _all_ of that, and yet you.. said.. _nothing_..?"

"So? Oh yeah, I also forgot to tell you Hesam sent in the speed dating 'why and why not' comments we wrote down to _The Daily Gazette_, but we decided it would be best if we didn't tell you right away."

"..."

Peter growled.

_Sylar was so.. dead.._

_Peter says why __**Not**__: "I forget why not now after the experience in bed I just had."_

_Hesam says why __**Not**__: "What Peter said."_

_Sylar says why __**Not**__: "What they said. Oh, but did I ever mention it might be a nice way to get __**yourself**__ tied to a bed, too...?"_

**End...**

0.0.0

**A/N:** I did not mean to make it appear like I was bashing Peter or Hesam during their crazy speed dating escapades, because they are both awesome guys. :) I just wanted to give them a hard time so Sylar's easy time with the dates would seem more ironic, or something...

And Hesam/Emma wtf, I know... xD;

No flames, please...?


End file.
